


Amsterdam

by Cloudlb



Category: Highlander, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clubbing, Crossover, Multi, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudlb/pseuds/Cloudlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark sows some oats far from home, and meets an interesting couple.  (Sexual themes, but non-explicit.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amsterdam

**Author's Note:**

> I always think about Clark flying around the world doing--stuff. Stuff like this! :)

The tall young man leaned against the wall and watched the dancers in the club across the street. Through the structure of the building, through the dancing, partying, and drinking crowd, he focused on a pair of remarkable dancers and tried to decide if he should pay the cover and work his way through the crowd to them. The Amsterdam party going crowd was too thick on this fine summer night to superspeed through. Maybe he could fly over the top of most of them, Clark mused. But for now, he contented himself with watching.

In particular, he watched the lithe and sophisticated man and his beautiful partner as they danced in the center of the club. Their dance was sensual, energetic, and skilled. The man had short dark hair and moved with an aggressive grace rarely seen, and the woman, who wore a platinum blond pixie cut, looked . . . expensive. Clark's vision, perfected over the last several years, easily picked out the details of their clothing, their sensuous dance moves, the flow of their bodies as they moved against each other. Clark wanted nothing more than to join them.

Clark shifted slightly against the wall, enjoying the direction of his thoughts, and the slight constriction in his tight jeans. So he had a slightly kinky side? Okay, a major kinky side, but he figured he was entitled to a few vices. After all, he saved lives on a regular basis, loved his parents, got good grades. He was in college—he was entitled to sow a few wild oats, right? So he got off on watching people have sex. Who didn't?

Shoving away his doubts, Clark went back to people watching. Amsterdam was one of his favorite places. The nightlife here was so lively and varied—boy did he get a real eyeful the first time he came here, after it dawned on him that he could fly rapidly to anywhere in the world. He didn't always have the money to spend on the drinks and covers at the clubs, or the cannabis and coffee in the cafes, but he could watch. And what he could see was often plenty.

It was hell flying with a hard on.

And yeah, he could, and sometimes did, go over a street and get a quick blow job or hand job from the guys, or spend more time and pick up a girl, or a couple. More often, though, he went into the clubs just to dance, which he found exhilarating and satisfying as few purely physical endeavors were to him. His alien body didn't often accord him the luxury of physical tiredness, but dancing to the beat of the house, following the lights up and down and around, bouncing and sliding against the crowd in the dark, could simulate it. A couple of times he followed the night around the world, dancing in nightspots until the wee hours—repeatedly, until the sheer number of hours in perpetual motion did what no amount of alcohol or narcotic substances could. After these binges, he would soak in the hot springs in Iceland, then crash on a beach somewhere, letting the sounds of waves soothe him and the sun renew him in an echo of human rest and relaxation.

But he wasn't after the oblivion of dance tonight. He craved a release that was a little more personal. A nice long weekend of vigorous sex could serve the same purpose. He started to move toward the door of the club where his couple was dancing, but paused. It looked like they were getting ready to go. He waited, and watched as the woman went to the restroom and the man gathered their coats by the door.

Clark wondered if they were done for the night, or if they were headed to one of the cafes. If they were done, he could follow them back to their lodgings and, no doubt, watch them have sex through the walls. But that was so mundane. He could watch people have sex any time of day if he wanted, but it really wasn't anything special. People had a lot of sex. At certain times of the evening or morning, he could look through the walls of his dorm or fly over any town and see dozens of people vigorously or gently humping each other. Missionary style, doggie style, reverse cowgirl . . . most people didn't have much imagination, he found. He bet this couple did. He hoped they were heading to one of the cafes—maybe he could buy them a cup of coffee and strike up a conversation. You never knew where that might lead.

As he followed the man and woman as they left the club, Clark mused upon his strategy. He had made something of a specialty of seducing a pair or a trio. He usually used the intimacy of the dance to seduce: impress them with his skill and imagination on the dance floor, the physicality of his stunning body, and the effect of his dazzling smile. Flirt, tease, and inflame. He usually didn't take it too far, out of respect for his relationship with Lex and his future career, but he had fun devising dirty games to play. Chances are nothing would come of this but fuel for his fantasies, though.

Distracted for a moment by his thoughts, he realized he lost the couple through the crowd. Stopping at a corner, using his superior height and vision to scan for them, he was caught unaware when he felt hands gripping him from behind, pulling him around a dark corner. He found himself looking straight into the face of the man of the pair, and he felt another, smaller body at his back.

"Why are you following us?" Up close, the man was just as good looking, but the look in his eyes . . . Clark had met quite a few very scary people, but this guy did "pissed" at a whole new level. Not to mention the--wow, very sharp and well used looking knife he was threatening Clark with. How had Clark missed that?

Demurring, Clark said, "I wasn't following you!"

The woman pressed against him. She didn't look happy, either, but she sure was beautiful. Her dark eyes flashed. "You're not afraid," she said. "You should be. You were following us. Why?"

Clark shivered. Knowing they couldn't hurt him, their aggression was merely enticing. They still looked sexy and sophisticated, but he could tell they weren't fooling around. He had a dilemma; he didn't want the guy sticking his knife in him, since all it would do would destroy the knife. Not easily explainable. He should just knock them out and disappear. Yeah, that would be wisest. Except . . .

Deliberately relaxing his body, he tried to be as non-threatening as possible. "Okay, I was following you. A little."

The man snorted. "How do you follow someone a little." Even pissed off, his voice sounded deep, and melodious, his English accented beautifully.

"Look, I'm not a weirdo, okay? I'm a college student! From Kansas!" Clark tried his most innocent smile. "I saw you in the club, and just. . . " he dropped his voice, "admired you." This time, he used the under the lashes look. "You're hot, you know? So, I thought I'd see where you were going, and maybe if you were going to a café, I'd try to buy you a cup of coffee. Or something."

The couple communicated a little with their eyes. He could tell they weren't exactly buying it. So Clark subtly leaned back against the woman, opening his shoulders and relaxing back with just a hint of sexual surrender. The man's eyes, sparking with anger a moment ago, suddenly were sparking with something else. He stepped back, putting the knife away smoothly, but keeping his attention focused on Clark. Clark was sure he would be afraid of this man, if he were human.

"Clark Jerome Kent, Metropolis, Kansas. Twenty years old." The woman was reading off his driver's license, flipping through the contents of his wallet, which Clark hadn't even felt her removing from his pocket.

"Twenty." The man said, sardonically, looking at his companion.

"Tell me, 'Twenty,'" the woman purred, "what would you do with us if you caught us, hmm? Out to make a little extra college money, are you?"

Clark was horrified. "No! Nothing like that! I'm not—I wouldn't. I just wanted to dance with you."

"Okay, we get it. You're as pure as the driven snow," the man said, with a sarcastic bite to his deep voice.

"Purity is so overrated, don't you think?" Clark grinned at the woman, who was now facing him, next to her lover. "If you give me my wallet back, maybe we can start over again?" He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Clark. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

The couple looked at each other for a nerve-wracking moment, and then looked closely at Clark, giving him a slow up-and-down. The woman slowly smiled and reached out to take Clark's hand. "I'm Amanda. And this is . . . Adam. We thought we go further along to a favorite club of ours after that. Interested?"

***

Later, relaxing in the hot, bubbling waters in Iceland, amusing himself by looking through the earth's crust into the heart of volcanoes, Clark stretched contentedly. Those two sure knew a few tricks, and he couldn't wait to try them on Lex. He slipped down into the water with a big grin.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this story stereotypes Amsterdam, a city I have not yet visited.


End file.
